


Self Insert Week 2016

by San121



Series: Tumblr's Fault [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Devil May Cry, Hetalia: Axis Powers, No More Heroes (Video Games), RWBY, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: All of these are on Tumblr, All of these are self inserts, Do not take any of these seriously, F/F, F/M, I made smut, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, These are just stupid things I threw together, help me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:21:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6994867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/San121/pseuds/San121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are all pieces from Tumblr's Self Insert Week. None of these pieces should be taken seriously as I am actually really bad at writing self insert fiction. As noted, only 4 of the seven pieces are romantic and only 2 of the 4 are explicit. Proceed with caution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Widow's Kitten

“I don’t care that I gave up coffee two months ago, I need a shot of it injected into my bloodstream right this very second,” I proclaim as I slide onto the stool in front of the barista. He gives me a sympathetic smile as he whips up a cup of simple black coffee and places it in front of me with three packets of sugar and a small carton of milk. I pour the packets into the coffee and drown the bitter liquid in the entire carton of milk. Giving it a quick stir, I pick up the cup and take a swig of it, burning my mouth.

“Ow, ow, shit, regret,” I mutter, fanning at my mouth. A snicker draws my attention to the man sitting beside me. He grins at me while leaning against the counter.

“Piss off, shitmonger. I just got out of my final and am not in the mood,” I snap, turning back to my coffee. He motions to the barista for something, while leaning closer to me.

“Don’t be like that. I just thought your reaction was funny,” he coos at me. I glare at him from under my lashes, completely unimpressed with his attempts at flirting.

“I’m in a committed relationship. Fuck off,” I snap, taking a long drink from my coffee. He leans over me with a nasty grin, trying to look down my shirt. I huff and turn away, finishing my coffee before hopping off the stool to go back to the cashier to pay for my cup and buy a to-go coffee. The man follows me closely, trying to tower over me as I pay and accept my coffee.

“I bet I’m hotter than your boyfriend,” he insists. I look at him, completely unimpressed with his ruffled suit and obvious ring line on his left hand.

“I’m sure your wife would agree, but I really don’t care,” I inform him as a gorgeous redhead struts into the coffee shop. She casually plucks my coffee out of my hand and takes a sip, curling her lip at the taste.

“Mocha? Really, kotyonok?” she asks. I snort and peck a kiss on her cheek as I take back my mocha. She rolls her eyes affectionately before raising an eyebrow at the man now gaping at us.

“What do you want?” she demands.

“Now, Nat. C’mon. Don’t be mean,” I tell her. Natasha rolls her eyes again, wrapping her arm around my waist and leads me out of the shop, giving me barely enough time to wave at the barista.

“I don’t like you being on your own in public,” Natasha informs me quietly as we walk toward Stark Tower. I huff a laugh, pressing another kiss to her cheek with a smile.

“I’ll be fine. My girlfriend is an Avenger and I’m getting my fighting skills back. There’s no damsel in distress here,” I joke. Her lips curve slightly as we walk into the lobby, ignoring the looks we get from some of Tony’s workers.

“Steve reluctantly admitted that you and Darcy terrify him with your combined pop culture references,” Natasha comments idly as we enter the elevator. I choke on my coffee before swallowing and coughing, Natasha patting my back while looking very proud of herself.

“Damn it, Nat! Don’t make me laugh,” I order, still coughing. She shrugs as the elevator opens to reveal Clint lounging on the couch in front of the large screen TV. Once he spots us, he swings his feet off the cushions, patting the spot beside him. Nat sits down first, pulling me down on to her lap to rest her chin on my shoulder. Clint swipes my coffee and takes a sip, scrunching up his nose in distaste.

“Really? Mocha? Damnit, Kitty cat, I thought you had better taste,” Clint sighs, handing my coffee back to me.

“Says the guy who actually likes Starbuck’s Pumpkin Spice Latte,” I shoot back before taking a sip. Clint pouts while Nat raises an eyebrow at him, looking very proud.

“Why is Assassin One looking proud? Maria-cat, you didn’t kill anyone did you? I know finals are a pain, but seriously?” Tony asks as he walks through the room, swiping my coffee and taking a sip out of it. He then coughs and hands the cup back, looking at me with betrayal.

“What’s wrong with my choice in coffee? Mocha is tasty,” I whine, getting a chuckle from Nat as the rest of the Avengers and company join us for the weekly movie night.

“It actually is. I rather like it,” Steve admits with a shrug. Tony turns to him in shock while Bucky peeks around Steve curiously.

“Really? Oh God, Friday. Did you record that?” Tony calls.

“Indeed sir. Would you like it saved with the other files that prove Mr. Rogers has opinions?” the AI asks as Pietro zooms over to the recliner with Wanda and Vision following at a more sedated pace.

“Yeah,” Tony nods as Pepper grasps his arm and pulls him to the couch, sitting him beside Bruce while Thor, Jane, Eric, and Darcy take up another couch. Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Rhodey all recline on the floor. I lift my hand up, stopping as I realize I’m missing my coffee cup. At a slurping sound, I look down at the floor, smiling as Bucky delicately sips from my cup. Tapping him with my foot, I whisper, “You owe me a new mocha.” He gives me a shaky smile in return before turning back to the TV. I cuddle into my girlfriend, grinning as the group starts to argue about what movie we should watch.


	2. At the Bar

“You’re like, five feet tall. How you gonna reach me, shortie?” I slam my fist into his dick, grinning at the high pitched whine he lets out before straightening up. I watch him drop to his knees, my grin turning malicious as he starts to cry pathetically at my feet.

“By punching you in the dick, ass wipe,” I snap, turning back to my dinner and the football game on over the bar. The bar tender looks down at the man, completely unimpressed as I pop a fry in my mouth.

“I don’t get how people continually flirt with you after spectacles like that,” she sighs, wiping down the counter recently vacated by a patron. I shrug and focus on the game as the door to the bar opens, letting a young woman strut in. I glance at her and nearly choke on my food. Long gold hair falls around a friendly face and smiling purple eyes as she looks around the bar. Spotting my staring, she makes the classic duel-finger-guns-and-wink motion at me as she waltzes further into the bar.

“Oh my God,” I quietly keen. The bartender looks at the woman I’m watching and makes a sympathetic noise.

“Yeah, that’s Yang for you. Making older women wonder if their pedophiles for going after a girl just under legal age,” she comments. I drop my face in my arms and groan, hard. The bartender pats me on the head before a commotion in the bag grabs both our attentions.

“C’mon girly. It’s just a little kiss,” Big N’ugly tells Yang, leaning into her personal space. She leans back with an unimpressed look.

“Yeaaaaah, no. I’m just here to pick up some food, so leave me alone,” Yang tells him. He ignores her request and gets even closer to her, close enough to look down her shirt. Which he does without shame.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he continues. Yang puts her hand on her hip and narrows her eyes. I slide off my bar stool and quietly make my way over to them as Yang tells him, “Look, I don’t usually like fighting guys like you, but if you keep talking like that, I’ll teach you manners.”

“Oh c’mon. No one under 5’7” has any right to demand a fight. What are you gonna do?” he taunts, bending enough to be in her face, “Head-butt my chest? That’s cute.”

“Say good-bye to your kneecaps, chuckle nuts,” I tell him abruptly, kicking him in the kneecap hard enough to hear that satisfying crack. He crumples over as I head back to my seat and the food there. Before I get too far, someone grabs my arm and pulls me back a little.

“Hey, thanks for that. He was really annoying,” Yang tells me. I flush a little and nod, blinking out SOS to the now giggling bartender. She grins and rocks onto her toes to press a kiss on my cheek and slip a paper in my hand.

“Maybe I’ll see you around…?” she trails off with an impish smile.

“Maria,” I blurt. She grins excitedly as the cook yells out, “To Go for Yang?”

“I’m Yang. Call me soon okay? By the way, that take down was kind of hot,” she admits, turning to grab her food before leaving, but not without turning and blowing me a kiss. I stand there, mouth agape as the bartender lets out a long whistle.

“Good job, Maria. You might have just scored an underage girlfriend,” she comments, obviously amused. I return to my seat and stare blankly at my remaining fries.

“You need a beer?” The bartender asks.

“I need a Slutty Shirley Temple,” I correct, finally looking at the paper and phone number scrawled across it. The bartender nods sagely as I type the number in my phone and consider the pros and cons of asking her out on a date. 


	3. Devil's Dance

Ten o’clock and I still have nothing to write about. I’ve been sitting in this strip club for the past two hours and I haven’t even had an idea for smut, let alone an actual story idea for my editor to look over. Huffing, I finish off my drink and walk to the bathroom, dodging groping hands along the way. Glancing about before entering the women’s room, I spot three heads of white hair amongst the rainbow of hair colors.

“Huh. Even older people like this club,” I mumble as I walk into the dark, piss and sex smelling room. Ignoring the sex occurring in the middle stall, I use the toilet and wash my hands. Quickly drying my hands, I hurry out of the room as one of the two in the middle stall starts begging for harder. Once out of the room, I pause and shake my head, deciding to have my first alcoholic drink of the night to dislodge the sounds I was just subjected to. Walking over to the bar, I sit down on one of the empty stools and order a light beer, hoping the smell and taste will distract me enough to actually have an idea to get around the writer’s block. The bartender hands me an unopened bottle and turns back to the other patrons, focusing on a scantily clad red head. I unscrew the bottle and take a sip, only to choke on half the beer and spit out the rest at the sight of three, very attractive, white haired men with a sexy blonde and a gorgeous brunette at their sides.

“Oh. My. Gooooooooodd,” I whimper, watching the five scan the club floor. The man in red grins wolfishly at any waitress that passes by, wiggling his eyebrows flirtatiously as the man in blue (his brother, maybe? They look almost the same facially) rolls his eyes and smacks the man in red on the back of the head. The youngest man snickers while the two women roll their eyes, smiling in amusement. The blonde woman makes eye contact with me, making me avert my eyes as my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. First of all, I don’t know if the woman bats for both teams. Secondly, one of those people could be her partner. And thirdly, hoLY SHIT SHE’S WALKING OVER HERE!! ABORT MISSION, ABORT!

“Hey, are you alright?” she asks. I smile as best I can at her while fighting back the urge to gush about how pretty she is and how I really want to put my face between her thighs.

“I’m fine. Sorry for seeming like a creep,” I apologize. She laughs it off and waves her hand, smiling down at me like prey.

“Don’t worry. I’m more flattered than anything else. Although my girlfriend is a little upset that I got all the attention,” she cooes as I feel someone brush against my back. Turning around, I come face to face with the brunette from earlier.

“I’m not that upset, Trish. I’m more bored than upset,” she informs her girlfriend, Trish, with a roll of her eyes. I can’t help but stare at the scar across the bridge of her nose and her pretty eyes. She turns back to me and asks, “What?”

“Heterochromia,” I blurt out. From a few seats away, I hear a man crack up while a younger boy demands to know what’s so funny. I press my lips together as a furnace lights up under my cheeks and I desperately wish the floor would swallow me whole.

“I beg your pardon?” Trish asks, sounding gleeful. I contemplate answering before biting the proverbial bullet.

“Your girlfriend has a very pretty condition of heterochromia. It- uh- the type she has usually appears in twins while –um- an eye exclusive version is more common amongst people in general,” I ramble as Trish slowly leans toward me with a smirk. Her girlfriend laughs behind me, patting me on the head, before dragging Trish off with a wink tossed over her shoulder. I groan and drop my face in my hands, or at least I tried, as I poke myself in the eye with my beer.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuccck…” I groan, covering my eye with my empty hand. A slow clap draws my attention to the man in red. He stops clapping and leans against the bar, smirking at me flirtatiously.

“Nice going, girly. With how you were eyeing me and my brother, I thought you were just straight,” he teases. I lower my hand and give him my best ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ look. I know I’m not a smooth operator, I know I’m not extremely attractive to a plethora of people, and I know I’m naturally people repellant, but seriously?

“You need to shut the fuck up,” I mutter, taking another sip of beer. He grins and sits in the seat Trish vacated, motioning a different bartender over.

“Hey can I have a strawberry daiquiri?” he asks. The bartender nods and walks off as I once again choke on my beer as his double appears behind him.

“Brother, why are we here?” the twin snaps. The man in red turns and grins easily, revealing to me that he has a fine line of stubble.

“We’re here to get you laid, Verg. Even the kid’s gotten some, so it’s just you,” the man in red answers easily, picking up the cocktail glass and taking a sip. The other man rolls his eyes and turns to leave in disgust, only to have his brother grab the back of his blue coat.

“Aw, c’mon Vergil. She seems nice,” the man in red insists, pushing Vergil closer to me. Vergil looks down his nose at me and my terrible life choices, sneering especially hard at my graphic tee proudly proclaiming ‘Done Adulting For Today’.

“Yep. I seem nice with my terrible life choices and impeccable taste in shit-talking graphic tees. Mm-hm. Yessir. Totally nice,” I snap at the man. He holds his hands up in defense as Vergil raises an eyebrow. I take a final swig of my beer and slip the bartender forty for all my drinks before hopping off the stool and heading toward the door, idly giving the man in red the middle finger. Exiting the club, I huff out of irritation, running my fingers through my cropped hair. Walking out of the parking lot, I start toward my apartment building, tugging at the neck of my shirt to cool down the blush of embarrassment that started to creep up when the man in red first insinuated that Vergil would want to have sex with me. At the sound of running footsteps, I glance over my shoulder only to jump when Vergil strides at my side.

“Wha-?” I fumble for words. Vergil puts his hand around my hip, pulling me closer to him. I stiffen in shock, glancing at him in apprehensive confusion.

“There is a man following you and Dante informed me that it would be in bad taste to allow a woman of your… caliber… to be assaulted by such a man,” Vergil sighs. I glare at him and open my mouth to snap when the names finally hit me.

“Dante and Vergil? Like from the Divine Comedy?” I ask. Vergil looks down at me in surprise as he slowly nods. I hum in understanding, leading him toward my apartment while glancing at the window, almost stumbling when I see the first bartender following us.

“What the shit? Seriously? Was I about to become a cliché? I didn’t even leave my drink alone, why was I about to become a cliché?” I grumble, huffing in frustration.

“A cliché?” Vergil asks, his tone lightly amused.

“Yes, the drunk-and-or-drugged-girl-raped-by-the-bartender trope. Fuck that, I’d rather be the crouching moron trope,” I admit. Vergil raises an eyebrow before groaning in what seems to be realization.

“The crouching moron, hidden badass trope is what you are referring to,” Vergil huffs as we arrive at my apartment building. I unlock the door with a furrowed brow, answering with an elongated, questioning yes. Vergil sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“It was my brother’s moronic thinking that caused Trish and… Lady… to talk to you. Mostly in hope of attracting me to someone slightly appealing,” Vergil explains as we walk to the elevator.

“I take it he’s a badass in some way?” I ask. Vergil smirks, “If killing demons can be counted as badass, then yes, he is.”

“Killing de-Are you serious? That’s ridiculously dangerous. To survive that, you HAVE to be badass,” I choke out. Vergil’s smirk seems to intensify, causing me to side eye him.

“Don’t tell me-” I start.

“I also kill demons for a living,” Vergil admits, turning to me. I glare up at his smug ass face before grabbing his shirt, yanking his face level with mine and biting his bottom lip. Vergil tenses before smashing his lips against mine, biting my bottom lip in return.

“What is your name, woman?” Vergil growls, trailing his mouth down my throat. I grab his hair and pull his head up enough to look him in the eye.

“I’m Maria. Now stop being a prick for five minutes and behave. The elevator is about to stop,” I tell him as the elevator door opens on my floor. He snarls as I walk out into the hall way, before slamming me into the wall, pushing his thigh between my legs.

“You, Ms. Maria, need to know not to play with me,” he growls, moving his leg up and down. I moan and hump against his thigh, grabbing his shirt again and bringing him down for another aggressive kiss. Vergil obliges, nipping at my lip again before fucking my mouth with his tongue. I moan again, reaching down to fondle him through his jeans. Vergil growls once more, bucking into my hand as his hand starts up my shirt. Suddenly, the door beside us slams open, startling us apart, and my friend sticks her head out of her apartment to glares at us.

“Maria, look. I’m glad you’re finally having sex, but I swear to God, don’t fuck against my apartment,” she snaps before slamming the door closed again. My face feels like it’s on fire while Vergil looks flat out murderous at the door.

“Let’s get to my apartment,” I offer with a cough, leaning heavily against the wall to keep upright. Vergil follows with a few muttered curses, waiting until I unlock my apartment before ushering me inside. He closes the door behind himself, licking his lips as he eyes me. Before he starts to stalk toward me, I hold up my hand.

“Will you wear a condom?” I ask, watching his reaction. Vergil huffs and rolls his eyes, pushing my shirt up and over my head despite my quiet protest.

“Of course I will. I have no plan to have a child with a woman I barely know,” Vergil growls, fondling my tits through my bra. I gasp as he rubs at my nipples through the cloth, my hands clawing at his shirt as my legs tremble. His hands wander down to my ass, griping and pulling up enough for my hips to grind against his. I wrap my legs around his waist as he stumbles over to my couch, flopping onto the couch before leaning back enough to pull off his jacket and shirt. I lick my lips at the muscles exposed to me, reaching up and lightly trail my nails down his front. Vergil shivers under my administration, leaning back down for another kiss as he undoes my bra.

“This will be the best sex you have experienced,” Vergil promises. I huff out a laugh, smiling a little sadly.

“What makes you think I’ve had other experiences with sex?” I ask. Vergil stills above me, his nostrils flaring and his pupils dilating, before starting to pull back. I tighten my legs around his hips with a growl.

“Don’t you fucking dare think about doing some spiel about doing it with someone I love. It’s my body, so I decide who to have sex with,” I snap. Vergil stops his attempt to leave, looking down at me.

“Are you sure?” he asks carefully. I roll my eyes.

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” I reply. That seems to have been the answer he was looking for as he dips his head to my tits and starts suckling on one.

“Oh Jesus! Don’t stop!” I gasp. Vergil growls around my nipple, nipping and sucking at the tip, as his other hand trails between my legs, rubbing at my covered pussy.

“Pants. Off,” he pants, going after his own pants. I kick off my shoes and shimmy out of my jeans and panties, squeaking as Vergil drags me back to the couch. He grabs a condom from I don’t know where and tears it open, carefully working it over his impressive dick. Vergil then starts to work me into a frenzy, rubbing and stretching my pussy open. I arch into his fingers, whining when he pulls his fingers out and licks them of my slick.

“Oh God, that shouldn’t be attractive,” I gasp. Vergil grins, pulling me until my legs are hooked over his shoulders.

“This will be painful at first. It’ll get better,” he assures me. I nod and relax as I feel his dick prod at my pussy. Slowly, he pushes in, inch by painful inch. I faintly hear a string of curses and it takes Vergil kissing me to realize I’m the one cursing. Once he’s fully in, the two of us sit and breathe. I blink the tears out of my eyes and feel the stretch his cock forces. Experimentally, I rock my hips. Vergil’s hands fly to my hips and he grabs them with bruising force.

“I said, don’t play with me,” Vergil growls. I stare at his eyes before a smirk crosses my mouth and I rock my hips again. He snarls, his cold blue eyes turning red, and starts thrusting into me. My mouth opens with no sound coming out, while I claw at his shoulders for purchase.

“I. Told. You. Not. To. Play. With. Me,” Vergil grunts, slowly lifting my hips as he pistons in and out of me. My answer is lost in moans and whimpers as I finally get a hold of his shoulders. His hair falls into his red eyes, grinning cruelly as he fucks me, his hand moving down to rub at my clit.

“Vergil. Vergil, I’m. Oh God. Don’t stop,” I beg, feeling the tightening of orgasm. Vergil presses his mouth against mine as my vision briefly whites out. Once I can see again, Vergil drops his head against my chest, breathing on to my skin. I idly run my hair through his hair, calming down after that intense session.

“So, want to explain why you’re eyes turned red or is that classified?” I ask. Vergil huffs into my chest, pulling me into a hug. I mentally shrug, I have the patience to write a short series so I can wait for his answer. I stop and blink, realizing I have an idea for a new series. Reaching over to the coffee table, I grab a notebook and start to write out the basic idea for the series. Vergil growls and swats the notebook down, pulling me closer.

“Go to sleep,” Vergil huffs. I roll my eyes, but comply.


	4. Fuck Santa Destroy

Santa Destroy is probably the last place I want to be. Firstly, assassination is a legitimate occupation here. Secondly, no matter how pretty the beach, there are fucking mines everywhere and I don’t want to deal with that shit. Thirdly, is the fucking asshole that lives in the room beside my rented room. As a light sleeper, I don’t get much sleep in this city. However, I think I would get more if the dipshit would play his games or videos at least a little quietly. I tend to lay in the bed, glaring at the ceiling as the motherfucker whines about some sort of game and how he’s losing. Giving up on the idea of sleep, I get up and power on my laptop to get at least a chapter finished to send it to my editor at a reasonable time in the morning. Turning on my Ipod, I let my writing playlist start washing over me and type up more about the world I’m building for my characters. 20 minutes pass and I just start on the strip club scene that’s been in my brain since I arrived when I manage to hear a knock on my door. Pausing my music, I rise up and storm over to the door, barely glancing at my reflection, before flinging open the door. On the other side is the fuckwad from the room beside me and a man that looks similar to the asshole.

“What?” I snap, channeling my brother’s resting bitch face as best I can. Both men stare at me in surprise and, just, stands outside the door. I raise an eyebrow at them, lean back enough to check in the mirror, then look back at the men.

“Is there something wrong with my face?” I snap, putting my hands on my hips and tilting my head to the side.

“Apologizes ma’am,” the non-asswipe offers, an Irish accent flowing through his words, “I just wanted to come over and apologize for my brother’s loud hobby.”

“Is that the hobby where he plays video games at loud volumes which prevent me from sleeping?” I ask, half to sure and half to be passive aggressive. The fucker winces while his brother turns to give him a look, answering, “Yes. That is the hobby I’m talking about.”

“I get it. I should play my games at a quieter level,” Shitlord McGee huffs, crossing his arms and pouting like a five year old.

“Listen, Fuckwit. I’m only here for another week. You turn your shit down for that amount of time and I’ll make you something. Got it?” I groan. The brother snickers as pisspants frowns at me.

“My name is Travis,” he snaps. I roll my eyes and try to convey the lack of fucks I give through my expression.

“I don’t care what your name is. Do you agree or am I going to have to break down your door and leave you in the parking lot?” I threaten. Travis huffs and nods, storming into his room, while his brother gives me a rather charming grin before following Travis. I roll my eyes again and close the door, returning to my laptop. I fucking hate Santa Destroy.


	5. The Receptionsit

It is 8 AM when I walk into the building, Ludwig already there and looking through his folder. I quietly cough to get his attention and raise an eyebrow, amused at his startled face.

“Good morning, sir. I take it you’re here to see the meeting room?” I ask, walking around the desk. Ludwig coughs in embarrassment, his cheeks turning red as he answers, “Ja- I mean- yes.” I ignore the correction as I turn on the computer and check through the lists on the desk.

“It looks like Alfred booked Meeting Room 3. It is just down the hall, second to last door on theeee…” I trail off, closing my eyes to help my mental picture, before finishing with, “left.” He nods and walks down the hall. I turn back to the desk and start to straighten up the papers all over the desk while checking the appointments on the computer. The doors open fifteen minutes later, making me look up.

“Good morning, Kiku-san,” I call out, standing up to bow in greeting. Kiku bows in return, smiling softly. I sit back down and pick up a folder from Japan.

“This is what your boss wanted you to talk about in the meeting. The meeting is going to be held in Meeting Room 3. Ludwig is already there,” I tell him. He smiles politely, takes the folder from my hand, and heads down the hall, calling back, “Thank you.” I return to the computer, sorting through appointments and questioning how tired Greg and I were yesterday when I see my short hand. Slowly, more people show up for the meeting, starting with Arthur dragging Francis to the Meeting Room and the Vargas twins attempting to flirt with me, and ending at 10:10 with Gilbert and Alfred strutting in late. I look up at them, smirking as the albino man drags Alfred down for a noogie. Clearing my throat, I school my face and raise an unimpressed eyebrow.

“The meeting started ten minutes. You boys need to run. Meeting Room 3,” I tell them, waving them down the hall.

“Keep up, you dumbkoff!” Gilbert cackles, racing down the hall. Alfred yelps and trips before running after Gilbert. I chuckle and shake my head, answering the phone to set up another meeting for the end of the week. When the clock reads 11:30, I pack up my belongings, checking my phone to make sure none of my professors suddenly dropped their class for the day. Greg walks through the door, grinning and exchanging a high five as I leave the building to get to my first class of the day. As I walk down the street, I hear a loud sound from the building behind me followed by an yell of “THE AWESOME ME STRIKES AGAIN!!”


	6. The Three Slayers

Sunlight streams in and I want to kill everyone in a ten mile radius. On the plus side, I don’t feel sick despite my killer headache, a miracle after the amount of alcohol my editor gave me last night. On the down side, I don’t feel sick, implying some form of Nutella entered my system somewhere between the fifth Blowjob and the Jager Bomb, and I feel a little sore in places I don’t think I’ve ever been sore before. I sit up with a groan and squint around the room, taking in the rich reds and lush purples.

“Oh God damn, am I in the honeymoon suite?” I groan. Two different arms reach across my shoulders and pull me back down to the bed. I squeak as two men who look very similar to each other sit up beside me. They look each other over before the blond man groans and covers his face.

“Damnit, Claire’s gonna claim I’m a narcissist,” he complains. The white haired man grins down at us appreciatively, his blue eyes wandering both our nude bodies, causing me to blush and cover myself.

“The zombie survivalist and the dick ripper. I think I just hit the most attractive jackpot,” he comments. Blondie snorts and stares down Blue-eyes as I slide down the bed to hide under the blankets we apparently didn’t use for anything.

“You need to stop, devil hunter. I don’t think either of us are in the mood,” Blondie snaps, as I wrap the blankets around me and flee to the restroom, scooping up my phone along the way. Closing the door, I wake up my phone and choke at the series of text notifications that pop up on my screen.

_Editr: ZOMG!!! WHY ARE YOU GETTING THIS LUCKY?!?!_

_Anna: Can I have the rest of your Nutella? Cuz I wanna be you right tf now._

_Kylie: Duuuuuuude dem hot asses u got wit u. U get it gurl._

_Anna: How do you fckn function wit this much booze?_

_Andrew: I can’t feel my face help_

_Satan friend: Hfw ded u leaf te bae. I stuk._

_Kat: DID U JUS MOUTH FUCC DAT MAN?!?! I CALD DIBS DAMMIT!!!_

_Kat: DID U JUS_

_Kat: I call dibs on man in red_

_Kylie: Condoms are friends_

_Satan friend: Tf u wern a cndm?_

_Andrew: Where u get Nutella from?_

_Editr: Dude, ppl tryn by u drinks. How drunk u r?_

_Anna: Do I hav 2 cut u off?_

I wheeze, leaning against the wall as I stare at my screen. Apparently, I didn’t beat up any of my friends or my editor, so that’s good. Unfortunately, I’m still absolutely clueless as to what happened last night. I open the door a crack and choke as Blue-eyes pins Blondie down to play tonsil hockey on the bed. Blue-eyes pulls back and looks straight at me, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“Hey, pretty girl. Wanna join us?” he offers. Blondie looks over, dazed and his mouth is red and shiny. I shyly open the door wider, looking anywhere but at the two very attractive men laying on the bed.

“Sooo… Do either of you know what happened last night?” I cough, avoiding eye contact. Blue-eyes sighs, getting off Blondie to lounge on the bed in the nude.

“Well, what do you remember?” Blue-eyes asks, tossing his arms over the pillows. Blondie seems to snap out of his daze and covers his crotch with his hands. Taking pity on the man, I peel off a sheet of my blanket dress and hand it over to him, getting a nod of thanks.

“The last thing I remember clearly is agreeing to a vodka jello shot challenge between my editor and Anna after eating some sort of dessert,” I tell him. Blondie’s brow furrows in thought as he makes a kilt from the sheet.

“I thought they only had Nutella based desserts at the bar,” Blondie comments idly. I groan, face palming before pulling it down.

“Well, that explains where I got the Nutella from,” I grumble as Blue-eyes laughs. He then turns to Blondie and asks, “And what about you?”

“I got slightly buzzed with Claire and Chris, saw… um…” he motions at me.

“Maria,” I offers. He grins and replies, “Leon. Anyway, I saw Maria flip some asshole over before somehow fixing the barstool she just broke. So, I sent her a water-”

“I appreciate that,” I admit, getting another grin from Leon.

“-and then I saw you wink at me,” he continues, pointing at Blue-eyes.

“Dante,” he tells us. I make a noise of understanding while Leon nods.

“After that, it gets a bit blurry,” Leon admits with a shrug. Dante hums and nods, looking at both of us appreciatively.

“Well, last thing I remember was going to sleep after one of the best threesomes I’ve ever been in,” Dante admits. Leon growls while I snap, “Are you fucking serious? You’ve been sober this entire time?!”

“No. I was buzzed up until Leon started rimming me and you sucked my dick, with, may I add, a good amount of skill. More than I expected from a virgin,” Dante tells us with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Leon inhales sharply as I flush in embarrassment.

“Last night was your first time?” Leon asks. Avoiding eye contact, I nod shyly. Suddenly, Dante is behind me, pulling the sheet off me and picking me up bridle style to drop me on Leon’s lap. He then pushes the two of us down, causing me to straddle Leon’s lap.

“You want to know what else you did, Little Miss? Pretty Boy?” Dante asks, breathing on my thigh and rubbing Leon’s dick through the sheet. I tremble as Leon moans underneath me, tossing his head back. Someone’s phone goes off but I ignore it when Dante licks my pussy.

“Little Miss decided to fight half the bar that tried to buy her drinks, including my twin brother. She somehow won half those fights while the other half ended before the fight began. And Pretty boy decided to push her against the bar to hug her. Before long,” Dante pauses to lift my lower body enough to pull Leon’s sheet away from his dick, pushing my hips back down to rub my pussy against his cock then continuing, “you two started to make out. I walked over to high five Miss Maria when Pretty Leon pulled me down for a good tongue fuck. During that, Little Miss started to turn me on by rubbing her hand on my dick.”

“Oh God,” Leon gasps, thrusting up and in. I squeak as his penis slides in easily, stilling as he starts to buck up. Dante bites at my shoulder, leaving multiple hickeys on my neck and shoulder before he continues.

“So, I lead you two to the hotel room Pretty Boy was rambling about his friends getting him as a joke. We got undressed and started the party,” Dante finishes, pushing my hips down hard. I gasp and arch as Leon claws at my thighs, hissing in what seems to be pleasure. Dante hums and climbs onto the bed as I start to ride Leon, dangling his dick in Leon’s face.

“Well, Pretty Boy, how ‘bout you share the pleasure?” Dante asks. Leon blinks lazily and opens his mouth, moaning as Dante starts to fuck his mouth. I whine, riding Leon as hard as I can while watching Leon deep throat Dante. Leon grips my hips and starts up a faster pace, moaning around Dante’s cock. Dante leans over and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, teasing the other nipple. I whimper, grabbing the back of his head to yank it up and slam my mouth against his. Dante hums and tweaks my nipple, putting his hand on Leon’s to encourage a faster, harder pace. All too soon, I pull away from Dante with a cry, clenching around Leon’s cock before dropping onto his chest. Leon pulls his face away from Dante’s dick and moans, releasing his semen inside my pussy. Dante pulls back enough to get both of us in the face with his semen, grinning at the two of us. He then pulls the two of us further onto the bed and picks up a phone along with mine.

“Here you go, Pretty Boy. Your phone went off earlier. And you sent a text during our only pause of the night, you insisted on condoms for the first two-thirds of the night before saying fuck it and something about birthcontrol, and got a reply just now,” Dante says, handing us each our phones before strutting into the bathroom. Leon looks at his phone and groans, covering his face as I just move my thumb across my text notification and unlock my phone.

_Me: In mid-threesome, need more condoms. Wearing a sheet to the gas station. I’ll keep you posted._

_Anna: it is a toga and you are a goddess_

I crack up, covering my face with my arm as tears start in my eyes. Leon probably looks at my screen because he starts to cackle.

“Dante, look at this text,” he calls. Dante walks out of the bathroom with two damp towels, dropping them on our chests. Leon takes my phone out of my hand and hands it to Dante as I wipe off my face, still giggling at my friend’s humor. Dante snorts and puts the phone back to sleep.

“I like your friend,” Dante admits as I move the towel down to clean my thighs of Leon’s cum. Leon nods with his towel on his face. My phone goes off again, letting Dante read the text notification before he cackles. I grab the phone and check the notification myself, grinning and trembling with laughter as Leon looks over my shoulder with a snicker.

_Anna: Also, I may need bail. For reasons. Legal reasons. I swear._


	7. Wesker's Revival

Raccoon City, with a former population of over 100,000 people the city was left a wasteland since the missile launch in 1998. The fence came down just a few months ago and tourists were allowed in the city remains with careful consideration. I wander down what used to be the main street of Raccoon, phone out for photos of the desolation around me. Apocalypse books are becoming popular again and my editor wants me to write one, so I’m standing here and squinting at dust and debris, hoping I’m not breathing in a person’s ashes. Stepping over remains of structures, I lift my phone up for a picture of a thin vine crawling up the small portion of upright brick. I look around the area I’m in, abruptly stopping when I see a muscular arm sticking out of the ground. Hesitating briefly, I raise my phone and take a picture of the arm, shrieking and nearly dropping my phone when the arm twitches and starts to rise. I scramble back, grabbing an iron pipe as the ground gives way to a torso and head, revealing a tall, buff, naked blond man. He stands and looks around the area, ignoring me as I hyperventilate near the rubble. He finally turns and stalks toward me, causing me to shriek again and swing the pipe. The man catches it and bends it easily, barely batting an eye.

“Where am I?” he growls.

“Raccoon City, United State of America,” I blurt, pushing myself further into the building wall behind me. He hums, glancing at my phone before raising an eyebrow.

“What year is it?” he demands.

“2016,” I blurt again. He huffs and stands, making me squeak and blush as his penis is level with my face. He then turns and walks a few steps away.

“It’s been seven years, hm? This will be intriguing,” He comments idly to himself. I inch away from him, back toward my car when he turns around and grabs me by my throat.

“Where do you think you are going, Miss,” he snarls. I gasp, smacking his wrist repeatedly until I start to get tunnel vision. Right before I pass out, I think I hear him say, “Prepare yourself, Chris.”

* * *

 

“Hey, Miss! Wake up, Miss,” someone calls. I blink awake, sitting up quickly only for my forehead to collide with the man’s chin. I fall back down, holding my forehead, while the man falls back, cupping his chin with a curse.

“Shit, sorry. Are you alright?” I ask. The man huffs out a laugh, waving me off.

“I’m fine. I’m more concerned about you, Miss. You’ve got quite the bruising around your neck,” he points at his own neck. My hand flies up to my neck, remembering the larger man choking me.

“Oh my God. I’m alive,” I breathe, hysterical laughter trembling in my lungs. The man frowns in concern at me.

“Why do you say that?” he asks. I look at the man in front of me, feeling like I should know him. He has military cut brunet hair and tired brown eyes, his smile matching his eyes and a patch reading “BSAA”.

“You’re Chris Redfield, right?” I ask. He tenses, but nods, causing me to sigh in relief.

“Thank God. Look, there was this weird, tall naked guy who just came out of the ground. I thought he might be a zombie, but he didn’t attack me until I tried to get to my car. He was asking about where he was and about the year and, holy shit. I don’t think he knew anything, or if he did, he didn’t show any knowledge. And I just realized he looked like an exact copy of Albert Wesker, which, fucking hell what the shit,” I ramble, starting to hyperventilate again. Chris puts his hand against my back despite frowning at my chatter.

“Look, tell me your name and I’ll see if I can get someone to pick you up,” Chris offers. I inhale and nod before exhaling slowly, trying to regulate my breathing.

“I’m Maria. Maria Mullens,” I offer. He freezes, then curses, grabbing his radio and turning it on.

“Don’t send out the arrest warrant for Maria Mullens. I repeat, don’t send out that warrant. Someone has her car and cards, she is not a bioterrorist nor is she helping one,” Chris snaps into his radio. I choke as I hear an affirmative over the radio, gasping out, “What?”

“Someone is attempting to bring back something like Umbrella and is using your information,” Chris explains, helping me stand up.

“Huh… Well, shit.”


End file.
